


False Fervor

by lapinprince



Series: Boldfaced [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Ending, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, and we all need more sassy akira, endgame spoilers, which becomes real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapinprince/pseuds/lapinprince
Summary: Given the opportunity, Kurusu Akira starts flirting incessantly with the detective Akechi Goro. Unsure how sincere he is, Goro goes along with the "fake" flirting until it goes just a bit too real. Everything just keeps spiraling from there and neither Akira nor Goro know how to stop, and honestly they're not sure if they want to.





	1. Thousand Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira has five sparkly part time jobs he could work for. So of course once he notices that he keeps running into Goro while working different shifts, he takes the opportunity to mess (read: flirt) with the detective. Goro has no idea why his cheeks feel so warm and he's not sure if he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably my first time posting fic in 10 years, how exciting. i just wanted to write a funny fic with goro being confused and akira being a dorky flirt
> 
> i havent written fic in a very long time but i hope you enjoy this! kudos, comments, etc etc appreciated. if you have any prompts you want to see happen i could give them a shot too.
> 
> if youd like, hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo)! 
> 
> \- ♔

Tokyo was a large city, wasn’t it? Full of thousands and thousands of unmemorable faces, his of course, unfortunately standing out in the crowd due to his borderline celebrity status. Goro always thought that this was the sort of city where one could easily fade away into the background like it or not, and yet he kept seeing a certain bespectacled delinquent almost everywhere he went. At first he thought of it to his own advantage, as the boy was rather suspicious to him in his investigation of the Phantom Thieves- but no, it was the opposite. It frustrated the detective, in all honesty, how unproductive he managed to be investigating one Kurusu Akira. 

There was no chance of cleverly worded questions being asked or information being fished from his suspect, none at all. All these useless encounters did was familiarize himself with the way the corners of the boy’s mouth quirked in place of a smile, the sarcastically deadpan quality of his low, somewhat tenor voice, or how he brought his hand up to lightly tug at pieces of black curly hair when he was thinking more deeply, and _dear_ this train must have been stuffy if Goro’s face was feeling flushed. It must be the train, he refused for there to be any alternative cause.

All of this started at the TV station during an interview. The boy didn’t look any more outstanding than any other student, really, other than his blunt claim opposing Goro’s opinion on air. Of course _that_ he would remember- he truly did enjoy being challenged, it meant someone was actually listening rather than dumbly nodding along- but despite his strangely familiar face, the loud blonde and the foreigner girl would have objectively been much easier to remember. After their formal introduction, he did see Akira periodically at the train station during his commutes, sometimes alone, sometimes with his odd group of friends. As they chatted every now and then, both his interest and his suspicion in the potential leader of the Phantom Thieves grew. It was a complicated feeling stirring in him, and he came to enjoy these chats, quite a bit- but he thought of it only as the excitement of the investigation. Sure.

And then he realized why Akira looked so familiar.

He was on his way home one hot day, and he had passed by the convenience store on Centre Street. The thought of an ice cream cone or popsicle sounded very appealing on such a sweltering day, and so the young detective strode through the automatic doors and directly to the freezer. He placed the popsicle on the counter, and upon reaching over to place the money down as well, he bumped hands with the cashier. Goro’s heart thumped, out of embarrassment as he decided at the time, and glanced up to apologize. 

“Sorry about that-“ he began, but paused when he came face to face with a familiar pair of blank, steel grey eyes.

“It’s alright,” Akira said plainly, scanning the item and taking the money. “Do you need your receipt?”

“You work here?” Goro said, eyebrows knit in confusion. The other boy shrugged.

“Yeah. Sometimes. You didn’t answer my question,” he replied, waving the slip of paper in his hand.

“N-no, I’m fine.” Goro scooped up the popsicle and his change. “Thanks,” he added, giving a slight plastic smile for TV in attempts to recover, wondering why he was so goddamn awkward.

“Have a good day,” Akira said, giving a small wave, his face as unreadable as ever. Goro turned and left, unsure how he felt about the probable leader of the Phantom Thieves working at a convenience store of all places. A small smirk made its way on Akira’s face as Goro turned his back to leave.

A few weeks later, the convenience store encounter almost entirely forgotten, he had decided to get some dinner after a long day of work and school. There was a beef bowl shop that he went to occasionally, and tonight seemed like a good time to visit. Once he was seated, he took a moment to scan the menu and looked up for the waiter to order.

“Ah, excuse me-“ he said, getting the attention of the young man, and yet again saw glasses and a curly mop of hair.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked, waiting patiently for Goro to speak. _Didn’t he work at the convenience store?_ Goro cleared his throat, Kurusu’s strange work schedule was not his business and quite frankly, not important.

After ordering, Goro watched as Akira skillfully cooked up his order and placed the steaming bowl in front of him. There seemed to be more beef on the bowl than usual, which he hadn’t ordered, but when he spoke up to ask about it Akira only turned his head and smirked the slightest smile before turning away again. Interesting. Slightly infuriating. But interesting.

It was a while before he saw Akira outside of his commutes again, and he had to admit, he wasn’t expecting it. He was given a mystery bouquet of flowers that he assumed had some obscure meaning, and wasn’t quite sure if the multiple answers the internet provided were trustworthy. Of course, the florist was the obvious place to go, and so he carried the small bouquet with him on his way home from the TV station.

“Hello, I wanted to ask about these flowers—“ Goro said, looking up to see, again, wearing a green apron this time, Akira.

“…Do you… work here too?” Goro asked, caught off guard once again. Akira blinked innocently and took a look at the flowers.

“Those are nice. What do you want to know about them?” he asked, smoothly dodging the question. For what reason, Goro had no idea. It was a simple yes or no but _of course_ Kurusu just needed to stay elusive. Somehow. A woman in a similar apron peeked over but went to help another customer after seeing that the part timer was doing fine.

“…I wanted to know what the meaning of the flowers were, but I could wait until the florist is available,” Goro said carefully, placing the bouquet on a nearby counter. Akira reached over and began to poke through the bundle of flowers, already looking engrossed in it. It was almost adorable, and Goro severely wanted to kick himself for thinking that.

“All orange flowers, hm… These are all different flowers that portray affection or love in some way, but the carnations and lilies especially in this bundle-“ Goro stopped listening rather quickly, amazed and concerned that Akira was seemingly fluent enough in _flower language_ to help. How was he legitimately talented in this as well as cooking in a restaurant, and taking orders from a busy crowd in a store? Disgruntled, his train of thought cut short as he became distracted by the other boy reaching up and twirling a lock of hair while he talked, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his eyes scanned over the different flowers of the bouquet. His eyelids were lowered as he looked down at the vase, and Goro made himself tune back in before he started to note how thick Akira’s eyelashes were.

“So, whoever gave this to you really wanted to give you the message that they adored you,” Akira said, standing back from the bouquet. Goro glanced between the bouquet, then Akira, then back to the bouquet. With Goro’s lack of response, Akira continued, a lilt in his voice.

“I would have just gone with a red rose myself, honestly. Gets the message across just as well.” Goro looked back up to the apparent florist in training just in time to see the corners of his mouth quirk up, and he swore he just saw him wink as well. Regardless, Goro’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and just as he hoped that Akira didn’t see it, Goro heard him scoff a laugh.

“Anything else, Akechi-kun?” To add more fuel to this disgusting fire, his heart jolted at the sound of his own name, and he quickly scooped up the bouquet.

“No, thank you for your help, Kurusu-kun,” he said, not looking up as he turned to leave.

“Please, you can call me Akira, you know.” The smooth quality of the voice seemed to crawl right down Goro’s spine.

“…Yes. Thank you, Akira-kun,” he repeated, but he continued hurrying his way out.

“Maybe I should have called him by his first name,” Akira hummed to himself, picking up a spray bottle and tending to the small plants by the front. A white faced black cat poked out of the brown leather bag sitting atop a shelf. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Morgana chirped, and the smirk made its way onto Akira’s face again.

“Maybe. It’s fun to see how he reacts,” he said, the smirk widening, watering the rest of the plants before he closed up for the day. 

After that encounter, he was starting to realize that after multiple encounters at the convenience store, a few visits to the beef bowl shop, and a glance of the curly haired boy, that Akira was _everywhere._ He even thought he saw him outside his school before he mentally slapped himself for hallucinating such a thing. He wouldn’t even be surprised if he saw that Akira had moved into the apartment next to his, just frustrated at the strange pulling sensation in his chest that came when he imagined it. So despite his confusion, he was starting to even hope to see Akira in these unexpected places, and to this he always internally grumbled at himself in disgust as god knows how complicated his investigation would go if he grew attached to his key suspect. Yes, growing attached. Again, he refused to think of it anyway else. The shuddery fluttery feeling in his gut was just adrenaline.

So one evening, he foolishly thought that of all places, a scummy bar in Shinjuku would be safe from Akira. Of course not.

The detective had calmly walked into the bar, Crossroads, if he remembered correctly, and set himself down at a stool. He was to meet a journalist of some sort; she was writing a series of articles on the Phantom Thieves and nearly begged him for his input as the detective on the case. He complied, of course, but was beginning to regret it after she requested to meet her at 10 pm at some “all ages” bar in Shinjuku. The woman in question was, in fact, seated only a few stools away from him, sipping some amber coloured alcohol with an already drained empty glass sitting in front of her.

“Akechi-kun!” she called, waving her free hand. “C’mon, over here.” The woman adjusted the sunglasses balanced on her head, and before Goro could even move the woman was bumbling over to him instead.

“Ohya Ichiko,” she introduced herself, alcohol evident on her breath and with a hand extended. He took the hand, and gave her another one of his fake TV smiles.

“Akechi Goro, as you know- pleasure to meet you, Ohya-san,” he said, internally trying to adjust to the reek of alcohol all around him.

“Thanks for coming out! Man, I was looking for some new material, so this’ll be good! Akira, can you get him some water or whatever?” she called, leaning an elbow against the bar and looking up to the bartender.

…The bartender, Akira.

You needed to be at least of drinking age before working at a bar, right? Akira _was_ a high school student, _right?_ He stared at Akira as he casually cleaned a glass with a towel.

“Sure. What would you like?” Akira asked, face still frustratingly blank as ever. Though if he watched carefully, Goro saw a tiny smirk creeping onto his face, and after seeing that he decided to stop watching carefully. Is he doing this on purpose? Or is he actually so financially strained that he actually needed to work 4 part time jobs? _Did he need help?!_

“Akechi-kun?” Akira repeated, tilting his head. Goro snapped out of his frantic train of thought and gave a dull look to the bartender. Of course, he shot back that same mockingly blank expression.

“Just water is fine,” Goro said, looking back towards Ohya, who seemed rather intrigued at the exchange.

“Oooh? Do you know each other?” she cooed, leaning in towards the two of them with interest.  
“My number one resource and the famous detective on the case?” The grin on her face was unmistakably mischievous, and Goro was getting rather uncomfortable.

“Number one resource-“ he echoed, looking back up to Akira. He was only given a sly smile and another wink. Goro wanted to leave.

“Ohya-san, wasn’t that a secret? I’ll have to cut you off,” he said playfully, reaching out to take the glass. The woman whined and grabbed it back, shaking her head in apology.

The interview itself was rather painless, but Goro could almost feel those grey eyes watching him, his lips moving, every gesture he made, how his legs shifted, everything. Goro’s face flushed, he felt like he was naked under the gaze of Akira, and with the light sound of laughter every now and then, he probably knew it too.

Once the interview was over, Goro turned his plastic smile towards the bartender, who obviously knowingly made the whole process much worse with his constant presence.

“So, you work here as well. I swear, it’s like you’re following me or something,” he said half seriously. Again, the corners of Akira’s mouth quirked up and the way he moved made the light shine in his eyes, making them flash mysteriously. The overdramatic fuck.

“Perhaps I am,” was all he said before he continued to clean.

Goro grumbled a farewell and quickly left the bar to go home.

And so here he was on the train, face burning red, what was probably his pride not allowing him to feel whatever his brain was screaming at him. He hated that he kept seeing the face of Kurusu Akira everywhere he went, and hated even more than he always needed to double take with a thumping heartbeat because it could really be him. He grumbled, shifting how his attaché-case sat on his lap.

He was on his way to meet Niijima Sae to talk about the most recent case, and she had wanted to meet at a café over in Yongen-Jaya. Apparently they had good coffee. Goro navigated his way through the winding alleys of the neighbourhood, finally finding the door to the café, Leblanc. He entered, peeking inside, seeing the grey haired prosecutor sitting at the counter, cup of coffee in hand. Setting his attaché-case down, he greeted her and sat in the stool next to her.

“Good evening, Akechi-kun,” she said between sips of coffee. “Sojiro-san, would you be so kind as to bring another cup for him?” The older man grunted in reply as he was already preoccupied with putting dishes away, and stalked over to the kitchen area.

“Akira, could you make another cup?” he called. Goro’s blood froze. There he was, again, _in another goddamn apron_ , an outright smirk growing widely on his face, heading over towards him. He leaned onto the counter, lashes lowered with that _smile_ on his face.

“Come here often?” he drawled, eyes meeting his.

Goro picked up his attaché-case, stood up face burning, and left the café without a word.


	2. Two-Faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro decided there was no harm in actually starting to come to Leblanc often, until he realized just how much someone could regret such a misguided decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so i decided to continue this after all-- i seriously hope i dont disappoint! this wont be very long and i will be staying spoiler free for now. i'll also be moving the rating to T for now, it may or may not change from there but well see... ill just keep updating he tags as things go :>
> 
> also! so this akira is a little different from many renditions of him; he's a snarky piece of shit that just likes to see people riled up in all sorts of ways. he kind of gets this energy from his time as joker, hes perfectly capable of being "normal" but you kind of need to establish that it's a serious situation if you expect a serious conversation out of him. he's still got tact, though, it's literally just how he feels.
> 
> as for his feelings towards goro? we'll see. :0
> 
> you can punch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo) if you'd like. let me know how you think, and hope you enjoy!
> 
> -♔

Goro’s heart nearly stopped when Akira handed him his coffee, which of course involved subtly brushing against the detective’s fingers much more than necessary. The touch through his black gloves still sent the slightest chill through him, making him both confused and disturbed. Maybe he was imagining it because there was _no way_ that the thick material of the gloves allowed him to feel the temperature of Akira’s hands just through the brief touch of fingers. 

They were quite warm, at any rate. 

“Thank you,” Goro mumbled, willing the flush away from his face as Akira gave a slight grin. He took a sip, the faintly burnt taste of the coffee washing over his tongue. He gave a satisfied noise.

“You know, when I asked if you came here often, I didn’t expect you to actually start doing so.” Akira’s smirk grew. “Is that because--”

“-- The coffee is excellent, thank you,” Goro swiftly interrupted, a pleasant smile on his face. He was right, he _had_ been visiting Leblanc more often since the regretful meeting there with Niijima. But today, the poor boy just wanted some coffee, he wasn’t really in the mood for Akira’s persistent flirting this morning. Of course, that could be avoided altogether if he just went somewhere else, but… well. He took another tired sip from the smooth ceramic cup identical to the one being rubbed clean in Akira’s hands. Despite the interruption, the boy didn’t falter, much to Goro’s dismay. The corners of his mouth grew to almost wolfish proportions as he set the cup down and leaned his elbows onto the bar to be at eye level. Goro glanced up from his cup and swore internally, the curly haired boy’s steel gaze too unfortunately captivating to look away.

“It’s because of me, right? I mean, unless you’re into older men-”

Goro sputtered. “What do older men have to do about this?”

“So it _is_ me you’re coming to see, then. Ah, how sweet.”

Fucking insufferable.

The red cheeks of poor Goro were more telling than what his words could counter. Well, perhaps it _was_ because of Akira. Maybe he actually _enjoyed_ spending time with him. Potentially it’s not _just because_ of the investigation. So what if he just wanted to be a normal teenage boy and sit in cafes and have the cute baristas- barista- flirt with him. So sue him. He pretended he didn’t just have that train of thought- he was here for coffee and human interaction, that’s all. No more… was intended, at least.

In any case, he was far from slacking off. He was fairly certain now that Akira and his friends were the Phantom Thieves; an encounter in the train station with the group confirmed many of his suspicions, and gave him more concrete reason to believe so. But now it was a question of what to do next, and all he had at that point was a vague inkling with not much solid evidence fit for a detective in a case like this. 

...And, well, he was running out of ideas on how to get anything more than a word of mouth confession. As if being around Akira would make him open his mouth and spill secrets. No, being around him would mostly be at his own expense. The descriptor “emotionally masochistic glutton for punishment” came to mind, but Goro pushed it away as he sipped his coffee again. As he decided before, there was absolutely nothing wrong with going to a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning. The sunlight streamed through the old windows of Leblanc, copious amounts of dust visibly dancing where the rays of sun fell. He never noticed how dusty this place was.

“No answer?” Akira teased, casually leaning against the counter. Goro blinked slowly, and set his cup down.

“Ah, I was just caught up thinking of more important matters,” he said, a nice smile on his face one more. “Besides, didn’t I say that I would like to speak with you more after our meeting at the TV station? Wouldn’t this be a good opportunity for that, provided that you weren’t too busy with work?” The playful smile on Akira’s face grew. Goro steeled himself, but continued.

“We just haven’t spoken because you’ve focused your efforts on embarrassing me instead.” He could feel his quickening heartbeat; he felt oddly like he was in the spotlight. He drained the rest of the coffee from the cup and set it down on the saucer, if only to look away from the near predatory look from Akira.

“It’s so fun, though,” Akira pouted, clearing the dishes away. Goro quirked an eyebrow, he being the one to lean his elbows onto the counter this time. 

“What happened to the intelligent student unafraid to speak his mind on air?” he asked with a rather accusatory tone, one akin to the one used to made his firm assertions on national television. He knew that this line of questioning would go absolutely nowhere; despite that, he felt a rush with his own boldness.

“Well, wouldn’t you know a thing or two about appearances in public versus private?” Akira shot back, quite an amused look on his face. Goro’s face reddened. His guard wasn’t just let down, it was completely shattered and Goro wanted to pack up quickly and leave.

“I- I don’t quite have any idea what you mean, Kurusu-kun-” he retorted, Akira’s gaze boring right through him. Was he really that transparent? 

“Akira.”

“What?”

That reaction earned Goro a sly smile. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know, I’ve seen how you react around your fangirls compared to how you react to me.” Akira raised an eyebrow, watching Goro’s face carefully with that same amused expression.

“I-” Goro’s face was growing rather uncomfortably flushed. Was _that_ what Akira was latching onto? He thought that he was onto his overall demeanour, but how he acted around potential love interests was what he focused on instead. He would feel relieved by this, but this was almost as bad, as unlike his other affairs he was not quite as experience with the romance department. With a lack of ground to give snappy retorts to Akira, he needed to get out of this conversation-- but it was too late, as the other boy opened his mouth to keep speaking.

“Always so stoic with your fangirls, receiving all these gifts of adoration--” Akira demurely held a hand up to his mouth in a mocking act. “ _Oh, more orange carnations? Yes, you adore me, everyone does--_ ” he crooned in a fake falsetto voice, then dropped his hand and looked straight at Akira to continue, “--Yet you can’t even be around me for a few minutes without looking like you want to bolt.” Akira had reached up to twirl a finger in the black curls on his head. “Ah, I know what it is.” 

This was far, far worse than being interrogated live on a tabloid show.

“You’re into quiet girls!” Akira said triumphantly, placing his hands on the counter for emphasis. Well, certainly something that he didn’t expect and didn’t know how to respond to. Did he even like quiet girls? He never had much opportunity to think about girls as a whole-- or anyone, for that matter--, and now he was pondering a useless train of thought that Akira planted in him and his self loathing rose just a bit.

“...I- uh. No, I’m not into-” Goro finally stuttered, trying desperately to recover.

“Quiet _boys?_ ” 

“...Why are you so interested, _Akira-kun_ ,” Goro said drily, stressing the first name of the other boy, not even bothering to sugarcoat the flat tone to his voice. Akira shifted the way he was leaning against the counter and leaned elbows down to face Goro eye to eye again.

“Because I’m usually a quiet boy, but I don’t have to be, _Goro-kun_.” Another wink.

Goro decided at that moment that he hated Kurusu Akira. Or at least, wanted to hate him. The imagery that came to mind with that single sentence was absolutely _incredible_ , something only a 40 minute hot shower could fix. Or was it cold? Did he even say Akira could use his first name? He heard it so few times that the sound of it said by Akira’s voice was enough to make the heat rise to his cheeks. He felt disgruntled, this was the opposite of productive for his investigation, insulting to his intelligence having to be subjected to this, and humiliating to know that he could have left at any time or _not even come here_ but here he was anyway.

Emotionally masochistic glutton for punishment indeed.

“Anyway, it’s been nice seeing you around here, but… we should spend time together outside of me working, shouldn’t we?” If Goro wasn’t hallucinating, Akira was fluttering his eyelashes. Goro opened his mouth to clarify.

“Like, to ha-” 

“Like a date.”

That was not what he wanted to clarify.

“...A. Date.” Goro repeated dumbly, and thought Akira’s borderline sadistic expression would grow to unmeasurable levels but he was instead met with a slightly shy look on his face.

“...Hey, well- if you would like to. It’s fun to tease you for sure, but I’m serious about-- yeah,” he said with the levelheaded tone that he first heard at the TV station, that he hears talking to strangers and bosses and co-workers. He wasn’t even looking directly at Goro as he said it, as opposed to the privacy breaching stares that he dishes out regularly. Is this what he meant by public versus private? He wasn’t quite sure which was which, but the more he thought about it the less he trusted Akira considering the slanted smile creeping onto his face.

Still, he had no idea what he could do. Akira was asking him out on a date after flirting with him incessantly for the past hour. If there was a definition for “coming on strong”, this might just be it. It was so dramatic he doubted the genuinity of Akira’s proposition.

But at the same time, if this was an opportunity to get closer to Akira, maybe have the opportunity to see his more serious side, be a confidant to him and get some sort of evidence linking him to the Phantom Thieves-- Goro really had nothing to lose. Other than his dignity. With flushed cheeks, unable to make eye contact, he turned towards the boy, keeping his head down.

“...Sure,” he mumbled, and though his head was not lifted to see it, a bright grin crossed Akira’s face for just a second before relaxing into the cool smirk from before.

Whatever Akira said next, it didn’t even reach the detective as he could only think of how this all felt like he was sitting blindfolded in a chair in a nice dark room, playing an excellent game of Russian Roulette and being told that it was his spin.

And then it sunk in fully that he, a detective investigating the Phantom Thieves, accepted a date with Akira, the suspected leader of the Phantom Thieves, with very dubious levels of sincerity. This was straight out of one of those trashy novels written for young girls where the detective falls in love with the culprit, derailing the case and probably also the rest of their life.

As if on cue, Akira gave him a knowing look before turning to wipe down the counters. As if he knew everything going through Goro’s mind.

What was he getting himself into.


	3. Pretty Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro wasn't quite sure how genuine Akira was with his words or his actions or this date, and everything he does just confuses him further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a while to get together, sorry for the wait. i did a few small edits to past chapters and hammered out a tentative outline for how thisll go, so this will be roughly 6 chapters! this is getting really fun to write and im so glad people are enjoying this :>
> 
> as always you can hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo), i am always down to talk about akechi and shuake hehe 
> 
> special thanks to del for helping me figure out the ending of this chapter. man, kiss scenes are hard. you can find him on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/kiryuyoshiya) hes a pretty cool guy id say
> 
> -♔

Goro had no idea why he was here.

Here he was, leaning outside the entrance of Leblanc, having made a bit more of an effort in dressing himself hours before, waiting for Akira to emerge from the door.

Of course knew, on a surface level, _why_ he was here-- he was here for their date, of course. Why he accepted it, why he actually came, why he even entertained the thought of using his valuable time (which wasn’t really that valuable if he was brutally honest with himself) to spend in a vaguely romantic manner with the very suspect of his case- _that_ he didn’t know. There would be a hopeless scandal if he was seen, but perhaps that sort of excitement would be nice to distract from his falling popularity polls.

He grimaced that something so trivial came to mind as a priority. Honestly, his investment in all this was starting to sicken him.

Which may just be why he decided to come, hair nicely tousled and brushed, a freshly pressed shirt under a long sleeved cardigan, a dark coloured pair of slacks and shoes. Maybe he was internally getting more desperate to live a more normal life, despite every other logical part of his mind shrieking to keep himself on track. It would be fine, he told himself, you don’t need to have feelings for somebody to accept a date with them. Sometimes you can just be spontaneous. Hell, some even used these first dates to test the waters. Nothing here was abnormal, he was perfectly justified to be in the position. He just refused to think more about his insistent denial having further meaning, because honestly-- that in itself was meaningless.

“What’s meaningless?” 

Goro startled and stood up from the wall, Akira standing just outside the door. He was wearing his standard plain shirt and blazer with dark jeans, bag absent from his hands this time. Was he talking out loud? He had no idea how long Akira had been standing there- how could he be so careless to keep letting his guard down? He wanted to kick himself, then thought of making it a full punch knock out instead after seeing the slow, innocent smile creep up Akira’s face. He had absolutely no idea how much he had ended up saying out loud either, and he was smart enough to know that him trying to fish for that information would be like fishing up sharks. 

“Ah, I was just contemplating out loud regarding a case I’m working on,” he said coolly, not truly lying. Akira cocked his head, the knowingly innocent look radiating off him. 

“Sure,” he replied, his smirk growing as it became clear that he didn’t believe the detective’s excuse. “Anyway, shall we go?” He turned to Goro and raised an eyebrow in wait of his response. 

“Oh- uhm, yes,” he said, glancing away from making eye contact. It was so strange, he was taller than Akira, even if only by a few centimetres, yet the shorter boy made him feel so… small. He brushed off the feeling as Akira started to walk towards the train station, and he followed suit.

The two chatted aimlessly about their week, finding a common ground in complaining about their workloads at school. Curiously, Akira had as much trouble as he did with keeping up; suspicious considering how Goro had the excuse of always being pulled from classes to attend interviews and work. Perhaps this was further evidence of Akira being the Phantom Thief leader- no doubt would one so busy stealing hearts have trouble making time for homework and studying. 

“Where are we going, anyway?” Goro asked, feeling much more at ease. Akira pushed his glasses up his nose and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll see,” he said, and left it at that.

Eventually, the two of them came across an adorable cafe with the displays full of lavish desserts and cute plastic models of curry and katsudon. Akira opened the door, ushering Goro in, who was stunned at the level of care required for this type of decoration. A waitress sat them down at a table, and Goro picked up a folded menu and peered inside, instantly zeroing in on a specific item listed there.

“They have-”

“Pancakes. And crepes, if you like that too.” Akira lowered his menu to watch his companion’s reaction.

“How did you know that I like-” Goro sputtered, heat once more flaring up on his cheeks.

“You mentioned it when we met. You got all excited when you thought we were talking about pancakes.” The answers Akira was giving were frustratingly matter of fact, but Goro couldn’t help but feel oddly touched that Akira remembered what was really a comment in passing. He didn’t say anymore, instead focusing on which set of toppings to order on his pancakes. 

There was a comfortable lull of silence after the waitress took their order, but Goro felt antsy without conversation to distract him from staring at Akira and gazing at his features, subconsciously memorizing every curve and angle of his face. He really needed to stop complying to these sorts of desires, it really wasn’t helping his case. So of course he opted to say something awkward instead. 

“This was thoughtful of you- er, I mean- that you thought to bring me here rather than just… somewhere.” Very eloquent. He blushed when he realized just how unintelligent of a quip that was, and it worsened when Akira gave such a melodious laugh that Goro felt chills. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Akira said, the smile on his face way too genuine and warm for Goro to be comfortable. He hated it when Akira wasn’t messing around, it made it feel like he was faking it all even more, and the disappointment he felt at that was a disappointment in itself to him. 

More importantly, why was Akira being so thoughtful towards _him?_

The food arrived, and the two boys dug into their meals after quick mumbles of “itadakimasu”. The pancakes were delicious, they were everything Goro could wish for in a pancake- fluffy, light flavour, warm- and the stack of them was a decent size, too. He wondered for a moment if Akira had specifically scouted for a place with pancakes, or if he had known this place already, but decided he was probably better off not knowing. He wasn’t quite sure how his poor head would react if Akira not only cared enough to put thought into their date, but also searched for the perfect location too. He gave a wistful sigh, hoping to pass this off as ingenuity too, but he couldn’t think of a reason why Akira would do this without good intention.

His brow furrowed, frustrated. What does Akira want from him? From this?

“Something up?” Akira asked between mouthfuls of his own curry, which Goro was surprised to see considering how the attic bound boy seemed to eat it at least twice a day. Goro shook his head and stuffed another forkful of pancake into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re really cute when you’re thinking, y’know.” 

Goro choked on his beloved pancake, proving once more to him that things you love can sometimes hurt you, and his life had hit a point where he was waxing poetic while wads of syrupy dough blocked his windpipe at a date with his key suspect.

He was so sorry to whatever god he pissed off to deserve this.

Akira just laughed as he watched Goro twitch in asphyxiated pain, eventually reaching over and patting his back. The offending confectionary finally disappeared down the right pipe and the poor detective took gulps of water to help wash it down.

“I. Thanks,” he said flatly, his voice raspy from the coughing.

“No problem. I tend to leave people breathless with my charm, so I suppose you’re no different.” A slow shit eating grin spread across Akira’s face, and _christ_ Goro wanted to kill him but unfortunately the butter knives would be much too dull for such a task. He decided to ignore the comment and carefully continued to eat, Akira’s mirthful laugh ringing in his head. 

“You seemed to enjoy watching me choke way too much,” Goro mumbled to himself, regretting his decision when Akira leaned closer to to the brunette, lips curled into a mischievous smirk, and whispered in response:

“Oh, perhaps.”

Goro really needed to shut up.

* * *

Not much else happened, despite a battle for the bill; Akira dumped his yen on the tray and shoved it towards the waitress and encouraged her to leave before Goro could protest. It was a sweet gesture, though completely unnecessary as a detective’s salary would have paid for hundreds of pancake meals without question- this being a fact that he has confirmed, of course.

“I should head home now, it’s getting a bit late,” Goro said after checking the time. They were nearing the station, where they would part ways. “This was… this was fun, though,” he admitted, though he refused to make eye contact with Akira when he glanced towards him.

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself,” he commented, smiling. He led Goro towards the side of the station entrance- though it was late on a weekend evening, it was surprisingly empty. 

“I, uhm. I did. Thank you.” Goro nodded his head hesitantly. He was admittedly still reeling at the fact that he just went on a _date_ , and he didn’t hate it altogether… definitely something concerning.

“I’m glad. Thanks for coming with me,” Akira replied, nearing the entrance to the station, glancing back and forth around the area. “Oh. One more thing.” He stopped suddenly and turned, making Goro bump into him.

“What-” he said, the concerned look on his face growing rapidly when Akira turned and placed a hand against the wall behind Goro, leaning slightly towards him as he successfully trapped the boy with his arm. He opened his mouth to protest, but Akira used his free hand to hold a finger up to his own lips.

“If you make a scene now, people will start staring, Goro-kun.” The smile on Akira’s face looked unreal, serene and affectionate in contrast to what he was saying. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Goro reached up to put his hands on Akira’s shoulders in an attempt to come out of this, still unused to hearing his first name. He didn’t get very far, as Akira responded by lifting one of his hands to trace his finger up along Goro’s jawline. He rested his hand behind his hair, fingers subtly curling between the locks.

“What-- Wh-what are you-” Goro mumbled, face reddening rapidly, eyes wide. The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched in amusement and he leaned forward to the detective’s ear.

“I’ll move if you let me kiss you.” Akira made a satisfied sound that almost sounded like a laugh. In an attempt at a response, Goro’s voice caught in his throat, making a pitiful squeak instead. He glanced to his side, he honestly could just run if he wanted to, but…

“Well-?” Akira whispered, making Goro shiver.

“...fine,” he mumbled. He felt a content breath against his ear, and Akira moved back to face him. Goro had to close his eyes just from the sight of Akira’s lips curving into such a soft smile, of his grey eyes gazing directly at him, eyelids lowered.

It happened so fast, but it lasted forever. Akira’s lips met his, and they were so soft and warm, and Goro felt himself lean forward to kiss him back, the slight pressure making him melt. He felt the boy’s hand tangle through his hair, just a little- thumb resting on his cheekbone. He never knew it would feel like this.

And then it was over and Akira had already pulled away, leaving Goro there with his eyes still fluttered shut and mouth slightly agape. A chuckle from him snapped Goro back to reality, and his face heated up once he realized what had happened, his fingers instinctively lifting up to his lips.

“Wh- That- I-” he stuttered, eyes wide and Akira just continued to laugh.

“Seems that I really do make you breathless,” Akira said, giving a coy wink. “Let’s do this again sometime, Goro. Have a good night.” And without even a blink of an eye, he reached out and slowly dragged his finger along Goro’s jaw, stuffing both hands into his pockets afterwards in one smooth motion. Frozen, the poor boy watched as Akira turned around and headed back towards the station, walking away nonchalantly, 

Goro stayed there against the wall for probably much too long, big eyes in near shock. 

Oh god, he was fucked.


	4. Face Value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira thinks about how this whole facade even started.
> 
> Of course, it was Ryuji's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably as explicit as this fic will get because writing smut is weird; its just a small scene though and the focus is not on it but rather on something else so just tread with caution :0c
> 
> the last two chapters will both probably be longer and have a lot more blatant end game spoilers! i am excited to see how this will go
> 
> im so glad so many people like this fic tho!! this is tbh a dream come true, its really encouraged me to keep writing-- in fact i have another one planned out already hehe 
> 
> as always!! go ahead and poke me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo).
> 
> -♔

“Mn.”

It was a sunny morning when Akira sleepily opened his eyes. He turned his head as he felt Goro shift, curling himself further towards the other boy, planting his face into Akira’s shoulder. His arms were loosely wrapped around Akira’s waist, their legs tangled together under the sheets, making the curly haired boy smile. The weather had begun to cool down so he was actually quite grateful for the extra body heat, and watching Goro curl up towards him in his sleep made him feel even warmer. Goro’s honey brown hair tickled Akira’s neck, and while it was a bit difficult given their positioning, Akira watched the soft rise and fall of Goro’s chest and the peaceful expression on his face. The sunlight streamed into the room through his old creaky windows, falling just so it seemed like Goro’s warm features were glowing, his usual mask of smiles replaced by his vulnerable, peaceful slumber.

Taking all of this in was almost too much. The light sighs coming from his “boyfriend”’s mouth made his heart flutter in ways that he couldn’t justify, and he knew that he was too far gone. 

Truth be told, this whole thing started off as a joke. Ryuji pointed out the odd attraction Goro had with Akira, how he always managed to meet him at the train station in the morning with that particular smile he flashed to him, a smile seemingly reserved for him. Akira wasn’t quite as observant or obsessive as Ryuji with this, he only took notice after the blonde’s suggestion to mess with the detective.

“Make him all confused so he doesn’t stick around you! We don’t need him on our ass, anyway,” Ryuji had declared, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched as he leaned his face close to Akira’s.

“Confused, how?” Ann asked, biting her lip as she tried to understand what Ryuji was plotting. She tsked when she noticed the vaguely uncomfortable expression showing through the stony exterior of Akira’s face, and reached out to yank Ryuji back by the suspenders. 

“Do you mean to repel him through unwanted advances, Ryuji?” Makoto suggested, wincing to herself as the boy in question tumbled backwards and fell on his ass. Without missing a beat, he still nodded his head enthusiastically from the ground. “That… well, I suppose it could work, you could theoretically establish a bond of trust with him that way. It seems a bit… wrong, I would say, but…” Makoto continued, giving a little sigh as she was unsure what to call it. Juvenile? Homophobic, perhaps?

“If you spent time with him, he could give you valuable information, too,” Morgana offered, his tail swishing back and forth as he perched on the railing. “I mean, I don’t know if Ryuji’s idea would work, but at the very least if we created an illusion of trust, we could get some dirt out of him too.” 

All of this seemed a bit excessive in regards to the detective, and everyone certainly did have different approaches and attitudes about it. But at the same time, sometimes Akira felt so _bored_ outside of the actual palace infiltrations and joyrides in Mementos. Perhaps this sort of project could be entertaining, and if it was fruitless in the end, no big deal. It was a harmless experiment, a prank at best, so nothing could possibly go awry with this.

As he thought, anyway, and he still wasn’t quite sure whether actually fake dating Goro while being unsure of the relationship’s sincerity counted as something gone awry. It probably did, if he was being honest to himself. Ryuji’s innocent, mischievous suggestion to get closer with the detective prince ended up successful in that some nights each week, Goro and Akira’s bodies were pressed together in various manners and some mornings he would even wake up just like this, limbs tangled up together and the sound of peaceful breaths. 

The longer the facade went, the more and more suspicious Morgana and the others became of what Akira was doing. “Are you actually getting information out of him?” they would ask, and Akira would reassure them all that though they were dating now, he was just messing with him psychologically. And that really _was_ the intention for the longest while, until that suave first kiss against the train station wall became soft lips pressed against each other, gloved hands threading fingers through dark curly hair in dark rooms. Clearly, his control over the situation was slipping, but he justified himself in the fact that it didn’t necessarily mean Goro had control instead. Well, to get it back, all Akira had to do was just bite gently on Goro’s bottom lip, as he has shamelessly learned.

At any rate, Akira managed to keep up the excuse of his own personal investigation, and all reason to continue vanished when Goro confronted the team with incriminating pictures, revealing that he was just like them. He joined them while proving himself to be a very capable thief and fighter, though the Thieves were still incredibly suspicious of his intentions. Akira’s unofficial mission to get closer with Goro became much lower on the priority list despite the uncertainty. It was almost unnecessary, at this point. There were better ways to get information from him, after all.

“I think I could get something, though,” Akira said plainly to an impromptu gathering of Thieves that attended Shujin during lunch. Ryuji’s face distorted into something undecipherable, and honestly, Akira felt the same way as he continued to bluff. He pushed his glasses up his nose, surveying the mixed looks of confusion and mild distress of his classmates.

“Hey, Akira…” Ann piped up, quietly. Akira already had a bad feeling about this.

“You’re not… serious, right?” she asked cautiously. 

“Of course I’m serious,” he replied confidently, having expected worse. Ann’s jaw dropped and Akira suddenly felt like he misinterpreted her words.

“I meant, you’re not serious about your relationship with Goro-kun, I mean…” She seemed almost afraid of what his answer was, her voice hushed in a low whisper.

Oh, he had definitely misinterpreted her words. Ryuji’s look of alarm rang the warning bells in his own head in case they weren’t blaring already. Oh.

“No, I meant I’m serious about investigating him,” Akira said coolly, having to stop himself from snarkily following up with “oh, same answer” because _dear god_ that was one way to get him in even more shit. But it was fine, there was no truth to that, right?

He kept proving himself wrong, as after a few months Goro seemed more comfortable with Akira, especially in private, specifically in Akira’s bedroom. And against Akira’s better judgment, he listened less to his head and more to his… well. He figured that such private moments could be hidden easily, so he didn’t think of it all too much. Not even the fact that one of the Thieves was a cat that was his roommate.

But, well, Akira never called himself intelligent. 

“W-what,” Goro pouted, moving his arms over his chest to cover himself, “You’re staring, stop that.” The corners of Akira’s mouth quirked up and he leaned forward, lips parted, pressing them to the side of Goro’s neck as his hands reached down to unbuckle his pants. Surprised, Goro gasped a moan and fell back onto his hands, giving Akira full opportunity to push him down fully. Goro let out a breathy moan, his hands reaching up to wrap his arms around Akira’s back, nails digging into the soft flesh as the other boy sucked along his collarbone. Akira’s hand reached down to slip fingers into Goro’s underwear, moving up to kiss him messily on the lips, tongues licking at each other desperately. 

Meanwhile, a very tired Morgana was being carried into the Leblanc by Yusuke, who was simply stranded from not having enough fare for the train. He had found the sleeping cat outside and thought it would be suitable to bring him home, and perhaps he would be able to request to stay the night as well. Akira was normally still awake at this time so Yusuke went ahead and brought Morgana upstairs, and as he neared the top of the staircase he saw something he _never_ thought he would have the opportunity to see. 

Two perfect subjects, currently engaged in coitus of some sort, both semi clothed with pools of blanket draped around their limbs. It was incredibly hard to get nude models to draw of this calibre, in fact since he was still 16 it was actually impossible. But this was the chance of a lifetime, being at such a close distance to these excellent subjects of anatomy practice, and he reached into his bag for his sketchbook.

He was snapped out of his artistic daze when one of his subjects moaned “Akira,” and the reality of the situation all but drowned the artist. Right, he was in Akira’s bedroom. He was not in a studio. This was not a pair of nude models placed here for honing his skills as an artist. This was Akira and Goro, fucking.

Yusuke slowly slid his sketchbook back into his bag as the moans became louder. Picking up the sleeping Morgana once more, he quietly stepped back downstairs amidst a high pitched whine, wondering how they were so absorbed in one another that they didn’t even hear his entrance. The creaks and noises of the pair was audible even from downstairs- no, he was certain that they were just getting louder. He slipped through the front door just in time to miss a cry of ecstasy, and he began the long walk home, cat in arms, terribly conflicted.

Yusuke was strangely silent and contemplative at the next meeting, and while most people would avoid eye contact after such a situation, he _only_ made eye contact with Akira and Goro. It was rather disconcerting to say the least, having a teammate staring deeply into your eyes while others were speaking. Goro shifted in his chair, looking away to pay attention to Makoto’s words, but when he glanced back nervously Yusuke’s gaze was still wide eyed, staring at the detective. It was horribly uncomfortable, like Yusuke was undressing him with his eyes, and that was unfortunately exactly what he was doing. Despite Goro’s discomfort, this predicament was just fine with Akira, as he was busy pondering what the line between joke and serious was. 

Does it count as serious if you’ve been on several dates? What if you actually enjoy spending many days a week together? Can you jokingly have sex? Multiple times? 

Things were looking grim for Akira; he had this line of thought several times since. He was interrupted from his train of thought, feeling his heart thump as he watched Goro’s nose twitch in reaction to the dust in the room. He genuinely did enjoy spending his weekends with the detective, and as time went on Goro seemed to enjoy it as well. He never stopped flustering the poor boy, of course, but instead of reacting with an intense stare of wanting to commit murder, Goro reacted with a less intense one instead, mixed with the most guarded affection. If he ignored the dangerous implications of his feelings, everything seemed perfect.

“Morning…” Goro sleepily yawned, rubbing his face closer into Akira’s arms. He paused, leaning back and sneezing over his shoulder, snuffling unhappily and replacing his head against Akira’s chest. 

“The dust up here is awful… how do you not have asthma, or something…?” he mumbled, still sniffling into Akira’s shirt. Akira’s hands carded through Goro’s hair carefully, feeling so, so content. 

“I don’t have asthma, but you still leave me breathless,” he said dreamily, grinning instantly when he felt Goro tense up in his arms.

“Can you quit with the asphyxiation quips already-” Goro sputtered, and Akira started to laugh.

“Since when was not being able to breathe the same as being choked? Or is it the same to you?”

“I-”

Akira laughed even harder. He scooped Goro up in his arms closer and kissed him on the forehead.

“You’re hilarious. God, I love you,” he said between chuckles. He froze altogether when he noticed how much Goro froze as well.

Oh.

Goro slowly craned his neck up to look Akira in the face, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes full of disbelief.

“...Are you… serious?” he asked, and Akira felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“...I am,” he replied after some time, wondering just how deep he would end up burying himself with this. 

“I… see,” Goro said, looking more betrayed than anything. Despite how everything about Goro looked like he wanted to run, he leaned his face back down, not letting go of Akira.

Akira stiffly laid there with tired eyes, starting to feel anxious at Goro’s response. Then, the fact that he was actually getting anxious, was actually serious, was troublesome in itself. He contemplated pretending he never said it, but thoughts of that disappeared when he felt Goro say something muffled against his chest.

“...what?” Akira asked, furrowing his brow. Goro huffed and lifted his face up, but not making eye contact.

“...I… do too,” he said, a slight look of disgust on his flushed face.

“...Good,” Akira found himself saying, and a shitty grin grew on his face. Obviously it was much easier for the trickster to joke about this than take it seriously, though he knew that this was just the equivalent of running away from his problems. Goro rolled his eyes in his fluster and laid back down, snuggling himself warm and tight against Akira.

This clearly wasn’t a joke anymore, but hell if Akira would admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yusuke: it's not voyeurism, it's art  
> ryuji: dude that is textbook voyeurism


	5. Saving Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, all good things come to an end, and all truths are found. Unfortunately for Goro, both occur at the same crucial moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeez its been a while, ive been travelling so its been hard to find the time to sit down and write. hopefully this is worth the wait! 
> 
> as i said this is when i get to play with endgame spoilers aka when shit goes down aka this chapter is uh kind of a mood change from the last four. but its worth it i promise you ive already got ch 6 planned out :>
> 
> thank you so much for all the kind comments! and yes as always you can contact me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo).
> 
> -♔

The days went by so pleasantly. Most any moment that Goro wasn’t busy with school or doing his official work, he was with the Phantom Thieves. Despite his hidden scorn for the group, he eventually came to let himself enjoy their time together. Whether it was the simple study sessions that Ryuji pleaded to have or the busy afternoons spent sneaking around the Metaverse, Goro always felt so strangely content with his day to day business. Even the days and nights spent with Akira were accepted into his routine. His view of the Thieves shifted from suspects and unfortunate pawns into individuals with interesting personalities and idiosyncrasies. He rather enjoyed talking with Makoto especially, not surprised to see that the bright intelligence her sister possessed ran in the family. The others were characters with whom he neither thought he’d form a bond, nor ever really wanted to- but here he was, bonded anyway, regardless of the underlying suspicions between them all. While he was quite used to appearances covering up true intentions and agendas at this point, and although he knew it was dangerous, he enjoyed his life with the Phantom Thieves. It was just so unexpectedly easy and carefree, at least up until now.

He had just returned after spending the evening at Leblanc with Akira, deep in thought. Akira had given him a quick kiss goodbye, something that was habitual and natural this far into their “relationship”. Shortly after, however, his “boyfriend” had said that _one particular phrase_ again, loudly enough this time for Goro to undoubtedly hear him. The first time he was able to indirectly return the gesture in the form of a “me too”, and the other times were quiet enough that he could safely ignore them without raising suspicion. But at present, Goro was trapped. He froze in place, his maroon eyes wide. He stared at Akira’s face and was surprised to see that Akira’s response to Goro’s hesitation wasn’t one of hurt or insecurity. Rather, he looked… sympathetic, or even apologetic. 

“Ah, sorry,” he said, a gentle smile on his face, “I didn’t mean to surprise you.” 

Goro still couldn’t say a word. His hands squeezed into nervous fists before falling slack. He swallowed, his throat feeling unnaturally dry.

“Get home safe, Goro. It’s getting late,” Akira said warmly. Goro could only bob his head dumbly in response and take a step back from the door.

“Goodnight, Akira,” he managed to say, before turning to leave. As he walked away, the sinking feeling of crippling guilt in his gut settled once more. The feeling of leaving Akira while carrying this awful weight on his shoulders was something that he was familiar with, but this night it crushed him entirely. Goro carefully opened the door to his apartment and stepped in, kicking his shoes off and locking his door. With the internal promise to clean it all up later, he tossed his jacket on a nearby chair and dropped his tired body onto the couch, facedown. He could still feel the warm affection from Akira that always felt so unsettling yet comforting, an odd warmth that both stripped him vulnerable as well as reminded him so harshly of his actual reality. It was the sort of warm affection that he knew he didn’t deserve, especially when he still wasn’t sure as to what extent Akira knew of his true intentions, if at all. Did the idiot even know that Goro planned to kill him? That his “boyfriend” was only using him as a pawn set to die as soon as he was done being useful? He choked a tearless sob as he gripped the upholstery of the couch, pressing his face into the material in frustration.

Goro had been so, so afraid that it would end up like this.

His plan had been shattered, and he had just let it happen. This “relationship” went against everything he wanted so many years ago. Considering the painstakingly sculpted mask that Goro wore, it was clear that his entire life _had_ to go his way. There was too much at stake, too much that he’d already lost, too much that he didn’t have, too much that he _needed_ in order to be able to go on. Revenge had hardened his heart and steeled his nerves as he grew up; he formulating the perfect plan of vengeance to execute, unafraid of the consequences. It had all gone perfectly up until now, with Goro smiling the precious little smile that audiences loved, acting as the charming media darling they all knew as the Detective Prince. He did whatever it took to ensure his fame would rise to give him a more favourable position in order to execute his revenge, but he would be lying if he said that the attention made his life any brighter. It became progressively more dull and empty as solving his own fabricated cases made his fans more obsessive, more wild, even _starved_. He had quickly learned that he would simply be alone, and no amount of bodies crowding him could change the dreary feeling he felt.

But at that time, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was to take revenge on his father… and then…

He had never planned for what would come after, but he had decided that what came after wouldn’t matter anyway. He was already going to be living each goddamn day a day closer to the moment where his father would die alone, and after that he didn’t care what he’d do next. When he had the emotional capacity to, he always fantasized of maybe being able to live a normal life for once. A life where perhaps he didn’t wake up each day alone, with no family or friends, surrounded by plenty of reminders of that fact. Like sitting by himself at his makeshift dinner table swirling the miso paste in his soup and poking at the piece of grilled fish on his rice. Or curling up on his couch, watching the late news with a cup of cold tea and his own interviews on the screen, staring at himself and mentally criticizing every missed word or unrealistic reaction that he saw. Or laying in the bed that seemed too big for him, the covers draped over his head and soft music playing from his phone to help ward off the nightmares.

Now, he always ended up imagining his daily life with somebody else. Someone sitting across from him at the table, prodding an unwanted lump of tofu towards him. Leaning back on the couch with his head on someone’s shoulder, a warm blanket covering their legs as they huddled together for warmth in the chilly nights. Having that incredible warmth next to him, hands and arms and legs touching, no physical boundaries, just comfort and safety. It was too tempting to him, and he hated how far away it was from his reach. This was something he couldn’t have… and as he decided, didn’t deserve.

But he just couldn’t hate Kurusu Akira.

Whenever he visualized the idea of not being alone, the other person with him always ended up being that curly haired “boyfriend” of his. He hated that he saw him in the few pleasant dreams he had. He despised the fact that he felt a vague feeling of pining whenever he thought of Akira in his bed, just laying there with fingers threading through hair and thumbs smoothing over cheeks. His heart wouldn’t stop its infuriatingly fast drumming whenever he thought of him. He hated everything that Akira did, but against his better judgment, he couldn’t hate _him_. Akira made him feel like a normal 17 year old boy, the masks of detective and thief clattered to the floor, and he almost felt thankful for that. He could close his eyes and pretend that all his inner demons were gone and Akira was there instead, and he’d always ached for that feeling of acceptance. It was like Akira could see through him; he always felt that he could be just a bit more real and that the burden of his disgusting spite fuelled anger could fade away for once. He felt exciting sparks in his heart as he feared for what Akira knew of him and his plans, and held his breath for the moment when Akira would say “Don’t worry, I already know.” 

Wishful thinking, all of it. None of that could really happen. If he went by the rules, Goro couldn’t love Akira either, regardless of what he actually wanted. Because no matter how hard it was, for someone of his position _he couldn’t be attached._ But fate had something else in store for him. Here he was, a boy blindly jaded by the horrible world with a mission, one that would ruin everything. He was perfectly poised to kill and he couldn’t doubt that despite his efforts, he was so in love with Akira that it _hurt_ and this foolish attachment would end it all.

He gripped his hair instead of the poor couch in his growing anger, tearing strands out of his scalp. He was so _stupid_ , so fucking _naive_ to think that he could play with fire and not get burned. Every moment that they spent time together was a mistake, hands held very bravely in public but only when nobody was looking, hot bodies clinging together desperately under the covers, even in battle following up on each other’s attacks, standing back to back against the shadows, such a tragic and horrifically perfect team. 

But in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret any of it. This whole line of thinking ran through his head night after night, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything differently. He felt so stuck: what he really wanted being just out of reach and his objective after years of work right being just within. He desperately wanted to be stopped, but he needed to finish what he had started. He kept himself skeptical of Akira’s affections, kept wishing and pleading for it to all be fake because he really, really didn’t want to do what he needed to do to the one person who might actually love him. 

He really didn't want to do it, but in the end, his time ran out too fast. 

Goro found himself holding back from heaving blood onto the ground, his wounds pulsing painfully following the battle after his attempt to stop the Phantom Thieves. He was in his black and blue outfit once more, a prisoner's outfit with straps restraining his limbs, linked to nothing and serving only as a remainder of who he was. The mask – a large helmet that covered most of his face – served him well to hide any pain he showed. It was all over, at least he thought so, considering that his cognitive self had a gun trained on him. One shot and it was all over for him. He had to stop himself from laughing at the irony. He glanced up discretely as the cognitive Goro went on and on, watching for any change in Akira’s stony expression. 

“I’ll give you one last chance. Shoot them,” his cognitive self said in his soft, monotone voice, finger pressed tauntingly against the trigger. 

He had no choice, did he? How _tragic._ His hand hovering over the gun strapped to his hip, he raised his head to look fully at Akira.

“Hey… you. Akira,” he coughed, reaching to lift his weapon out of the holster.

“...Yes?” Akira responded, and the rest of the Phantom Thieves glanced at each other nervously. Goro could barely think straight with the insane amounts of adrenaline fuelling his body, surprised that he could even stand when he felt like it would all go black at any second. He could take the easy way out, but if there was one last thing that he could do right, he’d have to do it carefully.

“All of it… was it real?” Goro asked, his fingers wrapping around the handle.

“If you’re trying to stall, you’re pushing your luck.” His cognitive self took a step forward, gun still aimed at him. Goro held his free hand up in exasperation.

“Let me do this,” he said tersely. He needed to know. Surprisingly, his cognitive self made an amused sound and complied, though he didn’t lower his gun.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Akira replied once the cognitive Goro stood down. Goro scoffed and unclipped the holster for his gun.

“Let me rephrase, then. Was it all a joke?” he asked, noting when Ryuji froze in place. 

“It was,” Akira said coolly, holding up a hand to stop any potential sputtering additions from Ryuji, “But I wasn’t joking.”

To that, Goro wrinkled his nose. Even at a time like this, he had to be just so mysteriously cryptic… but with him one squeeze of a trigger away from death, Goro appreciated the ambiguity. He smirked and lifted his gun out of the holster, letting it hang at his side. The blank brown eyes of his cognitive self bore into every action he made, probably critical of how slow he was to raise his gun. But no, he couldn’t ask this at gunpoint, not if it would change Akira’s answer. He needed to hear the truth.

“Well… I wasn’t joking, either,” Goro said, raising the gun to aim at Akira for the second time. The Thieves startled as his cognitive self basked in the scene.

“Yes, that’s the you the captain wishes to see,” he said, wide eyed with a horrible grin on his face. Goro kept his eyes on Akira, who stood still, as if his boyfriend wasn’t holding a gun to him. 

“I’m glad you weren’t,” he said, a slight smile on his face. “I trust you.”

Goro’s chest ached, and he was sure it wasn’t because of the wounds and bruises littering his skin. He tilted his head forward, hiding his face with his helmet. Akira’s words made him feel more sure of what he would do. He would just have very little time to do it.

“Well? Won’t you kill the leader of the Phantom Thieves?” his cognitive self crooned, the gleeful insane look on his face unwavering. Goro chuckled, each lift of his chest sending sparks of pain that made him feel dizzy.

“You misunderstand. You’re the one who’s going to disappear.” What Goro saw on Akira’s face before he had to look away was an expression of relief and pride, and it felt like a metaphorical shield as he turned his gun on his cognitive self and fired three shots into him. The cognition staggered back, coughing as he clutched the bullet wounds. With one of his last bullets, he aimed behind the group of Thieves and shattered the casing for an emergency alarm. Sirens rang as the intercom barked instructions to evacuate. Goro turned back towards the Thieves, removing the black helmet and tossing it to the floor. For once, he could smile, and the shocked expressions of the Thieves was all he saw before the partition flew up between them. 

Oh, his body felt so weary. He leaned against the wall, smiling to himself when he felt fists bang against the wall from the other side, when the panicked voice yelling alongside belonged to the very one who seemed to suggest this whole tirade. 

“Hurry up and go,” he called through the metal, wondering if his smile would be evident through his voice. “The real fools are you guys, you should have just… abandoned me a long time ago.” His grip tightened on his gun as he saw the pile of his cognitive self twitch.

“But you didn’t abandon me…” Goro’s smile grew. “Well… maybe I’ll understand someday.” He started to laugh despite himself, feeling so, so tired. “Let’s make a deal, okay…?” Goro closed his eyes, mimicking the rest he sorely needed. “Change Shido’s heart in my stead… Please.”

All remaining resolve he had was channeled directly into his plea, and he heard the telltale sounds of Akira’s boots approach the wall. 

“I promise,” Akira said through the partition. 

“Good,” Goro replied, holding his gun back up once he saw his cognitive self rise. “By the way… I wouldn’t have shot you even if you said it was a joke,” he continued, fiddling with the handle of his gun. “I couldn’t have.”

“I know. I said I trusted you, remember?” Akira replied softly.

What a sap. Goro took a deep, shuddering breath as he stood up straight again. “Thank you, Akira…” He paused, swallowing nervously. “I really do wish we met a few years ago,” he said wistfully, the ache in his chest almost as overwhelming as his physical injuries.

“Now... go.” Goro readied his gun again, sizing up his opponents. The foggy traces of Loki and Robin Hood in his mind felt promising, but in the end he hadn’t even the faintest idea of the outcome of this, or whether this would be the end of his story.

“See you soon, Goro,” Akira said, choosing his words carefully. Goro laughed in response, pointing his gun at the his cognitive self, the twisted image of him created by his father.

“So my final enemy is a puppet version of myself, huh…? Not bad,” he said, his cognitive self lifting his own gun.

The last thing the Phantom Thieves heard were two gunshots before they were forced to rip themselves away from the scene with heavy hearts, and follow through with what Goro had asked them to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry the sadness is over now maybe
> 
> ...maybe


	6. Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heroes always have happy endings, don't they? He supposed it depended on whether he considered himself a hero or not, or if he was just stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are, the last chapter! this was really fun to write and im so glad so many people liked it ;; ive already been planning my next fic which will go up very soon-- i will tell you though that this is the happy shuake that i wrote, the next one will... not be very happy... :'>........
> 
> but yes! thanks for reading, let me know on [twitter](https://twitter.com/princenocolo) what you think! if you have any ideas that youd like me to write totally let me know!
> 
> \- ♔ nico

The gunshots rang harshly in Goro’s ears as he squeezed the trigger. His grip on his gun tightened, as he subconsciously braced himself for the inevitable once he saw the dysfunctionally gleeful look on cognitive Goro’s face. Just as he closed his eyes, a white hot flash of pain burst somewhere on his torso, making his whole body jerk back in an attempt to keep himself standing. Splatters of warm blood hit the ground, and more dripped from the wound, enough to stain his black and blue prisoner’s outfit. He could swear that it even made the leather of his restraints tighten, which made him feel even more trapped in his fate. 

He was going to die. 

“Oh, I suppose I missed.” His cognitive self sneered, gun still trained on the striped figure in front of him. Goro swore under his breath; his cognitive self didn’t exactly _miss_ seeing as he now had a burning, throbbing pain which he had located as being directly in his shoulder. He had expected that the other’s goal was a nice efficient bullet to the head or heart, but no. Of course this would be drawn out, with every possible ounce of pain that could be inflicted upon his godforsaken body by his double. And it would all be done to his cognitive enemy’s delight, even though this pathetic vision of himself probably did not even having the capacity in his empty shell of a body to feel something like satisfaction.

How ironic that his father’s view of him would physically be as empty as Goro had been forced to be all his life.

“I suppose you did,” Goro rasped, cursing himself that the shoulder of his dominant side was hit. Horrible threads of severed nerves stretched and shrieked as he strained to keep his gun held up in front of him. His back was against the wall, and he never truly felt as cornered as he did now. The smirk on his cognitive self’s face only grew as he approached, a hand clutching the several gunshots on his stomach from earlier. 

“I won’t miss this time, don’t worry.” The insane grin on his cognitive self’s face unsettled Goro. “Following Shido’s orders… the perfect assassin, aren’t I?” The cognitive Goro stood in front of the prisoner, the hollow dark eyes now glowing a bright acid yellow. “I’ll take this as my final assignment.” Goro’s gun dropped from his hand, the pain in his shoulder unwilling to let him hold it any longer. As he reached down to grab it with his uninjured arm, a gloved hand lashed out and rammed his head back into the concrete wall. Goro sputtered, his hands reaching to shove back his attacker, but the grip on his jaw tightened. Cold steel was pressed to his forehead; the tables had certainly turned, for now he was on the other end of a gun that was so often in his own hands. 

“Just admit it. You’re no hero,” the cognitive other crooned tauntingly, pressing Goro into the wall by his wounded shoulder. Goro squeezed his eyes shut, finding that keeping them open only intensified the glittery dizziness of his dingy surroundings. It was all over. He mentally apologized to Akira for not being able to make it back after all, trying to imagine his face one last time.

He remembered one of the last times he had watched Akira smile. Dimly lit, the floorboards of Leblanc’s attic creaking quietly as Goro rolled onto his side to face Akira. They were on the floor, not the bed, a warm blanket wrapped around them from the waist down. He couldn’t remember why they were on the ground, but he remembered looking up at Akira to see the curly haired boy gazing at him, a soft smile growing on his face. It was one of those wearily happy smiles, eyebrows raised, eyes squished from his cheeks, mouth stretched into a bright smile, lips slightly parted. 

He internally scoffed. He really was far too gone, realizing that he would give just about anything to go back. Did he honestly want his last image to be Akira’s smile?

_It doesn’t have to be your last._

Goro weakly rested his head back against the wall. Well, it didn’t have to be his last, but the finger threatening to pull the trigger was certainly telling him otherwise. He’d like to see Akira again, somehow. He really would. 

_You can take charge of your fate._

A strange, dull sensation in the very back of his brainstem shivered down his spine. The voice he thought he heard just now was different from the first. Soft waves of power surged from the back of his mind, and he soon realized that they were the voices of Robin Hood and Loki.

 _”Can I really?”_ he asked, almost too late. The cognition had begun pulling the trigger, and his death was very close in reach.

_Yes._

A powerful burst of dark red light exploded from within his brain, curling around his head in a protective manner. The bullet collided with the barrier, causing both to shatter, and Goro instinctively held his hands up to his forehead. Loki himself apparated from the energy and swung his sword at the cognition, knocking him back in surprise. It quickly grew apparent that his brain and his personas didn’t see the threat as gone, when Robin Hood also appeared to slam himself into the figure on the ground. The cognition screamed in agony after the barrage of both personas, and Goro’s mind started to go fuzzy as he wondered how he was able to support their manifestations at the same time. Too much was happening, and Goro could barely register the explosion ripping apart the writhing figure of his cognitive self; it seemed that the cognition’s final plan was to take them both out, and he was still determined to execute it. 

Robin Hood threw his bulky body over the cognition as Loki stayed in front of Goro. A peculiar feeling prickled his head as the white light of Robin Hood began to dissipate, both figuratively in his mind and literally in front of his eyes. Goro clutched his head as Loki disappeared as well, his whole body feeling much heavier than just seconds before. With quiet whispers Robin Hood faded away, and as Goro collapsed to the ground, so did he.

* * *

Everything went back to normal for Akira fairly quickly, all things considered. He was promised rehabilitation in Tokyo, and after nearly a year he was finally able to relax. In just a few short days, he went from the leader of the Phantom Thieves to the quiet ex-delinquent that hid in the back corner of the classroom. Now, his days would predictably be filled with hours pouring over homework and studying, seeing the rest of the Thieves from time to time, and writing exam after exam to finish his second year of high school, just like a good kid should. It would be far less eventful than the copious illegal activity of before, where he outsmarted detective rivals and pilfered palaces in the Metaverse. All the dangers taken into consideration, Akira figured that he would miss those exciting days as the Phantom Thieves, and he wondered if he’d ever find something as fulfilling ever again.

After he had the chance to finally breathe, he found himself going through cycles of regretting not staying at the ship to try to help Goro and assuring himself that he did the right thing by letting Goro face his cognitive self alone. He agonized over the former far longer than he did the latter. When he was faced with the sorts of situations that truly required a logical brain he always had the chance to turn to Goro but now he only had the other Thieves. All evidence implying that he was still thinking about that day made his friends worry more, and Akira wasn’t sure if he should feel offended or not that his friends wanted him to move on.

He supposed he could move on if he tried. But the stubbornness in him that drove him on to succeed as a Phantom Thief simply didn’t allow him to. He would take it at his own pace and focus on school, and do as he pleased with his feelings. 

Except he couldn’t even do that, as the question of where he would go for his last year of high school became an issue shortly before finals started. Since he had “rehabilitated” so nicely in Tokyo, his probation officer recommended that he stayed for his third and final year of high school at Shujin, giving him more time in Tokyo with friends and more time to overthink. His parents had no objections, and though Akira had his doubts of whether that was because they truly had his best interest in mind or they just wanted him out of their hair, it didn’t really matter to him either way. At least in this way, he had earned himself another year in a dusty attic with the group of misfits that he called his friends. It was almost perfect, being in a familiar environment with people who liked him, and his life was now so boring that he could almost cry. After such a chaotic year, he was thankful for the dreary days that followed. 

He was given the opportunity to move more of his things to the attic, at least. With a few more boxes littering the room, he figured that he would feel more at home than he had felt anywhere else. But strangely enough, it wasn’t until after his second year was done that he really started to feel like something was missing. He never mentioned it to anyone of course, but he couldn’t let go of the empty space where Goro should be in their group hangouts, in Leblanc, in his room. He was rearranging the knick-knacks on his shelf, recounting all of the nice memories of his friends that were associated with them. Without thinking, he pulled the souvenirs from his dates with Goro to the front and placed them nicely, though he paused at the rolled up length of fabric tossed in with them. He unfurled it, already recognizing the navy colour and white vertical stripes.

“Forgot that I had this,” Akira murmured, looping the tie over his neck and swiftly tying it on himself. He lifted the tie up over his head and hung it on the shelf, absentmindedly running a finger down the material. It looked rather out of place, like Akira had forgotten to clean up properly, but he felt that that sentiment seemed rather appropriate.

“He wouldn’t forget something like that. He’ll be back to grab it,” he said aloud. He turned back towards the shelf and continued his organizing, hope rekindling within him. Anything that could make him keep believing would help, and even a strip of fabric was enough to maintain his trust in Goro.

* * *

“Oi, thanks for your help. I’ll finish closing up.” 

Akira rubbed the last mug in his hands clean and hung it up by the handle on the shelf. He pulled his apron off from over his head and made sure it was stored properly as well, on the same hook as the rest of the aprons for the cafe. 

“Goodnight,” he called to Sojiro as he climbed up the stairs to his room in the attic.

“Done work for the night?” Morgana tilted his head, tail swishing in the air. He was perched at Akira’s desk, sitting on top of some books that Akira had needed for his homework due the next week, homework which he had been trying to put off.

“Yep,” Akira yawned as he stretched his arms. Though he had been helping out at Leblanc for nearly two years, he always felt a bit sore from the repetitious arm motions if he didn’t stretch after he was done. 

“You’ve got an essay due Monday, right? You should make some progress on it so you don’t have to rush it,” Morgana advised, tutting when Akira decided to launch himself onto his bed instead of listen to him. “Really, you have to get good grades or else universities won’t accept you, you know.”

Another yawn. “Just let me rest for a bit, will you? You can bat at my face all you want if I end up falling asleep and don’t wake up in 30 minutes… hm, make that an hour, actually--” Akira pondered, a finger on his cheek. Morgana rolled his blue eyes and hopped over to the bed.

“Yeah, yeah. This is one of your last assignments of high school though, so you should at least try to do a good job on it,” he chided, sitting down on Akira’s belly and curling up. “It’d be a shame if you fell to Ryuji’s level.”

“Says the one who’s never even been to school, Morgana,” Akira said teasingly, lightly flicking him on the forehead. Morgana squeaked and rubbed a paw against his face as Akira yawned obnoxiously. 

“Hey, I’m sure I’d do just fine at school! Besides, I’m the one who’s known all the answers to your pop quizzes, hmm?” he huffed, laying down on his front to relax.

“You’re right, and the extent of your help was saying “Yes, I think so” after I had already answered correctly.” Akira pulled his glasses off and tossed them onto the windowsill. “So who’s the real genius? You’ve seen both Ryuji and I get through the past two years of high school, so obviously we should be just fine, huh?” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, sighing in satisfaction when Morgana dropped it.

It was strange knowing he was this close to his own high school graduation. It had been over a year since the Phantom Thieves had disbanded, and he and the former Phantom Thieves from his year were set to graduate together. Or at least they hoped to, Ryuji’s grades willing. Each time based landmark that he passed certainly did bring him closer to adulthood, but it also made the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that much harder to ignore. The longer it had been since the Phantom Thieves debacle, the longer it had also been since the Detective Prince Akechi Goro went missing. With the tidal wave of scandals and controversy surrounding Shido the previous year, the missing persons case of the boy went practically unnoticed– probably on purpose. Despite the lack of media rabble about his disappearance, Akira had a good idea of the possibilities of where he was. Perhaps dead in the nothingness that was now Shido’s palace, or floating like a rock in the non-existence that was the Metaverse. Something like that, he always scoffed, though his cynicism was just a cover for the unshakeable faith that he truly held for the boy. The others were always uncertain: visibly uncomfortable whenever it became apparent that Akira completely believed that Goro was okay.

“You heard the gunshots,” they would point out, “Futaba couldn’t sense him afterwards,” but their words of pesky logic fell on deaf ears. 

“You never know,” he’d always reply, and the conversation would inevitably stop there. The topic of Goro ceased to be brought up after they learned that Akira would just not let go. He had trusted him then, when standing on the other side of the partition, and he trusted him now. At first, Akira had tried searching the Metaverse for him, even looking to see if he was lurking among the ruins of any previous Palaces. Nothing. He convinced himself that some people just didn’t want to be found, no matter how much someone else wanted to find them. Perhaps Goro was like that. Perhaps Akira wasn’t looking hard enough, and Goro.actually did want to be found. Perhaps he had no idea what Goro was like at all. Akira didn’t know, and he accepted that he could do nothing but wait and see. 

“You seem pensive,” Morgana chirped, nuzzling his head against Akira’s chest. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking about Goro,” Akira said bluntly. Morgana’s face contorted into what could be interpreted as disgust, but was really just one of concern.

“I know you want to keep believing in him, but… it’s not healthy to keep holding onto people like that. It’s been over a year,” Morgana said worriedly, resting his chin onto Akira’s shoulder. 

“I know,” Akira said, fully aware but choosing to ignore his advice anyways. He couldn’t forget Goro. He yawned again and rolled over to his side, causing Morgana to leap off him before he got crushed.

“Maybe you should get some sleep; you must be tired,” Morgana said, finding a better spot on the bed. Akira nodded, sliding his arm under the pillow and pulling it towards himself.

“I’ll do my homework tomorrow,” Akira decided, voice muffled by his pillow. Morgana hummed in agreement and rested, curling up by Akira and letting his rhythmic purring soothe the boy until they both fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning was a dull, unimpressive day, cloudy with the looming threat of rain. After a boring day of school and reneging on a promise to stay at the library to work on his assignment, Akira decided to head straight home instead. The bell on Leblanc’s door jingled as he opened the door, and apparently choosing to be irresponsible proved to pay off for him occasionally.

Someone was chatting idly with Sojiro when he walked in, though it wasn’t a stranger nor a regular. Akira’s gaze snapped to the owner of the other voice, someone with long brown hair that looked constantly ruffled, warm maroon eyes, and the blue argyle sweater vest he’s seen more times than he’d like to admit. Sojiro smiled wryly and made his exit when he saw Akira return home, giving them privacy. 

“Y-you’re-” Akira sputtered, his grip on his bag slacking as it tumbled to the ground. 

Goro glanced to Akira, lifting the porcelain cup to his lips and taking a long sip of his coffee. “Ah, welcome home.” He smiled serenely as he set the cup down on the counter.

Akira took a steady breath and his face erupted in the most brilliant smile. “Honey, I’m home,” he whispered. He stepped forward and practically yanked Goro out of his seat to pull him into a hug. So many complicated feelings swirled within him, anger that he had taken so long to come back, joy that he was alive in front of him, sadness over what Goro probably had to endure to be standing here; but in the end, he could only be relieved. A huge weight fell off of his shoulders as he buried his face into the crook of Goro’s neck. He smiled when he felt Goro’s arms wrap around his waist. No, he couldn’t be angry; he trusted in Goro and that he would return. The two stayed silent, Akira taking in the warmth of the closeness that he had missed. 

“Where’s the snarky mouthed jokester from before, hm?” Goro mused softly, breaking the silence. Akira snorted.

“Don’t you mean _Joker?_ ” he said, his signature playful grin returning to his face. 

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

Goro pleaded to an invisible deity for strength, but was relieved for the familiar banter. He leaned back from the hug, studying Akira’s face. It seemed like neither of them had changed much in any way, only hardened from what they had endured. But to his relief, nothing was different. 

“I’m sorry for taking so long. I had to lay low for a while after-” Goro began, but he was swiftly interrupted by Akira leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips. He returned the kiss, feeling Akira’s smile against his mouth. The feeling of having Akira back in his arms, and having his lips on him was incredible, something he had missed dearly. The two only separated when neither could breathe any longer, and Akira cupped Goro’s face in his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

“Soooo… come here often?” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. Goro rolled his eyes and swatted Akira on the shoulder. 

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Goro replied, the grin not leaving his face.

“You are. I’m glad.” Akira briefly touched his forehead to Goro’s and closed his eyes. To his surprise, Goro’s hands reached up to cover Akira’s hands with his own and return the affectionate gesture.

“I am too,” Goro whispered, and he smiled happily, feeling incredibly light.

Perhaps falling for Akira wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> del: so before the point where i knew that akechi would leave the party i made sure i kept his tie so i just have it now  
> me: oh my god thats terrible  
> me: [writes it in my fic]
> 
> anyway thanks so much to cin, del, hisame, andra, and vale for all reading over things and giving me feedback!


End file.
